


Good, Brilliant, Spectacular.

by cereal



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-26
Updated: 2013-10-26
Packaged: 2017-12-30 13:17:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1019064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cereal/pseuds/cereal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's months and months and months after Norway that it strikes him. Happy, smutty TenToo/Rose fluff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Good, Brilliant, Spectacular.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [Ania](http://crazyandsexy.tumblr.com)'s birthday!
> 
> * * *

It's months and months and months after Norway that it strikes him.

Months filled with beds and kitchen tables, storage cupboards and balconies, every sofa they've ever occupied alone for more than an hour. 

Shouts to the ceiling and filthy words, bit-back gasps and teeth sunk into shoulders to muffle groans.

Naked or mostly clothed, skirts hiked up and trousers undone, frantic and sweating, or slow and sweet, and it occurs to him then, right then, towering over Rose Tyler as she twists and turns beneath him in their bed --

"We're good at this," he says, and the words are panted as his rhythm stutters.

Her eyes wrench open, jaw unclenching, hips arching for a restart. "What?"

"This," he says, and he punctuates it with one quick thrust before he's pulling back a bit again, still keeping them connected. "We're very good at it."

Her fingers unclench from where they're fisted in the sheets, moving beneath his arm to curl around his shoulders instead, and then they're dragging roughly down the length of his back.

The sharp edges of her fingernails are usually enough to spur a moment of reckless movement out of him, but today he just grins with it, arching his back to seek out more of the sting.

"See?" he asks, "We're _good_! You know I like that!"

She shakes her head on the pillow, laughter and frustration fighting for space in her mouth -- a place she'd prefer was occupied by his tongue.

"We _are_ good," she says. "And it was getting _so_ good, about to be great, even! And you stopped!"

He smiles and shrugs, the motion hampered by the way he's still bracing his weight on his arms.

"Just thought I should point it out," he says.

"How good we are at shagging?"

He drops a kiss to her nose, pushing himself deeper inside her, and she fights down a groan.

"Ye- _p_!"

Her hips angle to meet his, trying to bring him back around.

"In the middle of shagging? You wanted to point it out -- _discuss_ it -- in the middle of a shag?"

He nods enthusiastically. "Yep! What better time to point it out? Shagging, _fucking_ , so many words for this, pages and pages of it, and we, Rose Tyler, are brilliant at all of it!"

Her legs fall from where they were wrapped around his waist, settling on the bed and spread around the length of his body. "All right, we're brilliant at it. Should we demonstrate?"

She arches to meet him again, the soft, brief slap of skin on skin, and he can feel the way she's clenching around him, deliberate and focused and that look in her eye.

It's almost enough to start him up again, certainly would have been months ago, when they -- _he_ \-- was so new to this. Now though, like he said, he's gotten good at it. Gotten good at holding out, gotten good at coaxing laughter from her, silly words and happy kisses, filthy words and messy kisses, all of it such a great adventure as they tumble together toward supernovas.

There's a point, he knows, where he won't be able to speak anymore, where his vocabulary will devolve into gasps and grunts and these breathy noises that are really best described with a vocabulary other than English. But right now, buried inside of Rose, he's content to just -- linger.

"Of course, I'm good at loads of things," he continues. "But this was a bit unknowable, wasn't it? Human hormones, human body, human sex, there's a chance I could've been rubbish at it. Not a big one, mind, I'm still me, but still -- a tiny, little chance."

She unclenches around his cock, relaxing into the sheets more fully and finally resigning herself to having this conversation now.

"I don't know," she says. "Pretty rubbish of you to stop with me moments away from coming." She winks at him. "It was going to be _spectacular_."

He grins again, pushing from his hands to his elbows above her. "It's always spectacular! That's what I'm saying!"

He pauses, awkwardly maneuvering to tug at his ear with his fingers. "Well, there are those times when you're very tired, or very stressed, or when I am very, very drunk, that the ending isn't always spectacular. But still, good fun even then, wouldn't you say?"

Her hand moves into the space between their chests, tripping lightly down his skin until she's dancing over the spot where they're joined.

"I was looking forward to a spectacular ending _tonight_ ," she says, and goes in for the kill, fingers ringing tightly around the base of his cock.

"Fuck!" he yelps, and then he's thrusting shallowly into her fingers, into _her_ , and she thinks she's won, but then he slows the movement again.

"As I recall, Rose Tyler, you already had one spectacular ending tonight," he says, and he sounds smug. "Or don't you remember? My face buried here." He shifts, thrusting again, more to reference the area than spur any feeling. "My tongue inside you, and then tap-tap-tapping on your clit. You were really very wet, Rose. I'm certain you haven't forgotten."

She sighs, shaking her head. "No, I haven't forgotten. But I just -- sometimes I like another one!"

He grins and presses his mouth to hers, not long enough for her to deepen the kiss the way she wants.

"And I'd like for you to have another one! Love it when you have two," he crows. "Three sometimes, even, but you know how that last one always goes, it's a bit...simmering, isn't it?"

Her hands move swiftly, cupping his cheeks. "I'd like that second one now. _Please_ ," she says, punctuating the word with a slow arch of her hips.

His eyes slip shut briefly, "Oh, I do _love_ it when you say please."

She brings his mouth to hers again, murmuring against his lips, "Please, Doctor, _please_?"

He nods, tipping his forehead to hers briefly before propping himself back up.

"Well, since you asked so nicely," he says.

He thrusts into her quickly, burying himself before pulling back to launch into a rhythm. Her legs find his waist again, fingers curling once more into the skin of his back, grabbing at his arse, his shoulders, anything, anywhere, go go go go go go.

She's back on the precipice in a few long moments, the Doctor now reduced to curse words and noise as he strokes in and out of her.

"I know you like it when I do this, too," he grinds out, fingers finding her clit and rubbing purposefully, frantic and friction and fuck, if he stops again, she will bloody _murder_ him.

It's all too much, both of them, everything, skin and sweat and feeling, a buzzing in her head and a fizzing in her veins and so close

so

fucking

CLOSE

Then she's slamming her eyes shut, fingers gripping him so tight, as she convulses around him and shouts out her release.

"Brilliant!" he shouts, and it's the last word he gets out that isn't a curse, _fuck and fuck and god fuck yes,_ falling into short barks of sound as he loses all finesse and scrambles mindlessly to follow her.

She's got her hands around the back of his neck, still riding the ebb of her climax, and then she's tugging him down so that his mouth is next to her ear. 

"Come," she breathes, pleads, commands, "Doctor, _come_."

With a noise halfway between a groan and a yelp, he listens, a final, sloppy thrust before he's going tense and rigid above her, and she can the pulse of it as he empties himself into her.

When he's done, breath evening out and chest stilling above hers, she pulls at him until he collapses on her, bearing his weight for a few content minutes, before nudging to roll him away.

He nuzzles into the pillow, shimmying to get his feet under the duvet, as she moves for the en suite.

When she returns, he's lying on his back, snoring softly. She walks back toward him, shifting herself onto the bed and straddling his hips.

"Wake up, Doctor," she says, jostling his shoulder. 

He opens his eyes blearily. "What?"

"I need to talk to you about how brilliant we are at sleeping!"

He sputters beneath her, " _Now_?!"

She smirks at him. "What better time to point it out? Sleeping, snoozing, dozing, so many words for this, and we're terrific at all of it!"

He groans, "I'm tired, Rose. _Please_?"

She nods and slips from his hips, moving to curl up alongside him with her head pillowed on his shoulder.

"Oh, I do _love_ it when you say please."

* * *


End file.
